Photo Ops Abound in Nice

On our first full day in Nice, we took in some postcard-perfect views of the Mediterranean, explored a museum devoted to the painter Chagall, and visited a gorgeous Russian Orthodox cathedral.

Our guide, Ingrid, arrived for work as usual on her motor scooter -- a Piaggio Granturismo -- and parked it next to our hotel for the day. She, along with our Alumni Holidays trip director (Fred Burke), and our bus driver (Rene), first took us on the bus to a fancy neighborhood overlooking the city. There Ingrid showed us lots of examples of belle époque architecture, a style that was popular from around 1860 until start of World War I in 1914 -- “a time of wealth and splendor,” Ingrid said. The architecture is a mix of styles: pointed arches, Romanesque cupolas, stucco, even some towers on a building that look like Turkish minarets. Most of the houses are either red or yellow, with orange-tiled roofs, and when set against the Mediterranean -- which is several shades of blue -- it’s just a treat for the eyes.

Up in that neighborhood, we stopped at an overlook for a fine view of the port and beach. A huge cruise ship, the Astoria, was docked in port, along with a ferry offering trips to the island of Corsica; the side of the ferry read, “Corse-Nice en 2h 55.”

After the overlook stop, our bus worked its way back down the hill and through the narrow streets of Nice. At one point we turned a corner and suddenly saw our next stop: an unbelievably beautiful Russian Orthodox cathedral with green and gold onion domes against a pure blue sky. It looked like someone had airlifted the thing in from Moscow or St. Petersburg and plunked it into this old French city. Officially called the Cathédrale Orthodoxe Russe St-Nicolas, it was built by Tsar Nicolas II in 1912 and is still used for Sunday services today. It’s extremely picturesque inside and out -- colorful tile work on the outside and ornate woodwork and gold leaf inside. (No photos are allowed inside, alas.) It features more than 250 religious icons, including the Virgin Mary, Alexander the Martyr, the Archangel Michael, and others. Plus, of course, a gift shop.

Next it was off to the Chagall Museum, or in French, Musée Chagall. Ingrid, our guide, told us that Marc Chagall was a Russian Jew who fled his home country and lived in France for a number of years in the 1920s, then came to the French coast in 1948. He eventually settled in St-Paul-de-Vence -- the town we visited the previous day -- where he was neighbors with Henri Matisse. (Not that they were best buddies, however; Chagall reportedly was intensely jealous of the attention that both Matisse and Picasso were getting for their work.) The museum is full of works that Chagall donated in 1966 -- huge paintings, mostly, but other media as well. When Chagall was in his 60s he started to do mosaics, and when he was 70 he took up stained glass windows. We saw a wall-sized mosaic of the prophet Elijah, and stained-glass windows depicting the seven days of Creation.

To no one’s surprise, the Chagall Museum also features a gift shop. Many of the Penn State travelers bought books, postcards, or other items there.

After a lunch of salad Niçoise assiette (sort of like a salad Niçoise with accessories), we set off to explore Nice on our own for the afternoon. Before we left, Ingrid gave us some advice about getting into the good graces of the French shopkeepers. Always say “Bonjour, monsieur” or “Bonjour, madame,” and then ask, “Parlez-vous anglais?” People in France, she said, really appreciate it if you make an attempt to speak their language.

And a good number of French people don’t speak much English. On the one hand, we’re all a little surprised at this, but on the other, we’re very mindful -- and a little embarrassed -- that most of us Americans speak only English. (Two passengers in our group, Margaret Smith and Monica Shumann, do speak French, and we often go to them for help. Fred Burke, our AHI trip director, was born in the U.S. but is fluent in French, and having him around helps enormously.)

I had a frustrating but comical conversation a day earlier with the clerk at the Internet café, where I had gone to retrieve an adaptor I had accidentally left there the night before. The clerk had no idea whatsoever what I was trying to say, as I held the adaptor and pointed to myself to try to convey that it belonged to me -- and I had no idea what she was trying to explain to me in response. Finally, when she was distracted by another customer, I put the adaptor in my pocket. When she saw me leaving, she said something in French in an apologetic tone of voice, and I shrugged graciously, as if to say, “It’s OK -- don’t be too sorry. I have my adaptor back.”

Tomorrow we have a road trip to Monaco, including a visit to the fabled casino at Monte Carlo. Will any of the Penn Staters actually win some money at the slot machines? Stay tuned.

Photos

Our guide in Nice, Ingrid, showed up at the hotel each morning on her scooter -- a Piaggio Granturismo.

Penn State travelers, including Bob Nicely (shown here), were treated to a fine view of Nice from an overlook above the city.

A view of Nice’s waterfront from one of the city’s hillside neighborhoods. The arched structure on the right is a memorial to the French who died in the World Wars.

A cruise ship docked in the port of Nice.

The city of Nice has a gorgeous Russian Orthodox cathedral, built in 1912.

Penn State travelers Alvin and Pat Levin admire the Cathedrale St-Nicholas, the Russian Orthodox cathedral in Nice.

Ingrid, our guide in Nice, explains Chagall's “La creation de l’Homme” (The Creation of Man) at the Chagall Museum.

Surprisingly, the Chagall museum allows picture-taking. This is Monica Shumann snapping a shot of “Adam et Eve chasses du Paradis” (Adam and Eve driven out of Paradise).

Perfume Lessons in Grasse

The abundance of flowers in Provence -- especially in the area around Grasse -- led to its development as a perfume center several centuries ago. In the Middle Ages the town of Grasse was centered on leather-tanning, but that process made the town pretty stinky. Catherine de Medici gets credit for coming up with the solution -- de Medici, who came to France from Italy in the 1500s to marry Henry II, got the idea to perfume leather gloves to cover up the smell. A perfume industry eventually developed, and it remained long after the leather industry faded away.

Our group visited one of the three major perfumeries in Grasse: Fragonard, which has been around since 1926. We learned that although the flowers for the Grasse perfume factories once came from the surrounding countryside (lavender, for example, is especially big in Provence), nowadays development has eaten up that countryside, and today it’s cheaper to import the flowers from Egypt, India, and other countries. The job of the perfumeries in Grasse is to process the blossoms here and extract the essence, or what they call the “absolut.” It takes on ton of flowers to get a about a quart of absolut. Each perfumery has a head honcho who creates the perfumes and has an especially well-cultivated sense of smell; he or she is called “the nose.”

At Fragonard we attended a class where we sniffed little sticks scented with perfumes, trying to name the components. We learned that perfumes are classified into categories like woody, oriental, spicy, flowery, and so on. We also learned (or tried to learn) to distinguish a perfume’s “top,” “middle,” and “base” notes. Top notes are scents like citrus and fresh-cut grass; middle notes evoke flowers and spices; and bass notes include amber and wood. It felt a little like the wine tasting of a week earlier: The instructor described Shalimar, for example, as “vanilla with a powdery note.”

One of the Penn Staters, Marilynne Stout, proved to be especially good at picking up on all of these nuances, so we took to calling her “the nose.”

After our tour of the factory -- and some time in the gift shop -- the Penn Staters in the group had a very special treat. A bus took us to the town of Valbonne, where a Penn State alumna and her husband hosted a reception for us at their home. Aimee Rusinko Kakos ’69 H&HD and husband Michael Kakos live in the U.S. most of the year but have a summer home in the south of France, and when they heard that a Penn State tour group would be in the area, they offered to have the travelers over for wine and snacks. It was a lovely late-afternoon gathering, and the alumni from Cornell (the other school represented on this trip) were a little envious of our bonus excursion. Later, many of the Penn State travelers said that the Kakos’ generosity and the chance to meet Penn Staters living in France was one of the highlights of the trip.

Tomorrow we’ll spend a day in Nice, visiting the Chagall Museum and a picturesque Russian Orthodox church, and taking in the beauty of the Mediterranean. I’ll write about Nice next.

Photos

Members of our group took in a class on perfume-making at the Fragonard perfumery in Grasse.

The Penn Staters learned how to distinguish the various components of perfumes during their visit to the Fragonard perfumery.

A tile painting at the Parfumerie Fragonard in Grasse captures the long tradition of perfume-making.

A special treat on the trip was a reception at the home of Penn State alumna Aimee Kakos and her husband, Michael (at right), who own a summer home in Valbonne, not far from Nice.

The Penn State travelers posed for a group shot at the Kakos home. Standing in the front row, from left: Jerry and Joady Gorelick, Pat Levin, Dot Kracht, Marilynne Stout, Jackie and Jerry Grossman. Second row: Jan Meyer, Alvin Levin, Aimee Kakos, Bob and Donna Nicely. Back row: Michael Kakos, Bill Kracht, Ned and Relda Newlin. Seated in front: Tina Hay.

Our First Day on the French Riviera

We’ve now traded the quaintness of Provence for the glitziness and
beauty of the French Riviera -- which is charming and photogenic in a whole different way. The day before, after our lunch at the base of Mont St-Victoire, we left Provence and driven east towards Nice. Along the way we learned a bit about the history of the French Riviera, known locally as the Côte d’Azur, or the Azure Coast. It started off as a string of sleepy coastal villages, and its evolution into a major tourist destination can be attributed to one thing: tuberculosis. Someone discovered that the climate here is conducive to health, and suddenly lots of people started coming here. From there it didn’t take much for the area to morph into a resort destination. Queen Victoria (who, as far as I know, never had TB) would spend her winters here, bringing an entourage of 400 aides and servants. The area became extremely popular with the English, who found the idea of winter vacations in the sunny Mediterranean to be a heck of a lot more appealing than the dreary cold of their home country.

As our bus continued toward Nice, we got our first glimpse of the Alps, and learned that this region of France is called the Alpes Maritimes, because it’s where the mountains meet the sea. A few days from now, when we visit the principality of Monaco, we’ll see just how dramatic the transition is: Monaco, like other towns along the coast, is stuffed up against a mountainside, and the upper coastal road provides a spectacular -- if scary -- view of the ocean below. Anyway, it was pretty cool to see snow-covered mountains and palm trees all on the same day.

Just before we reached Nice, we passed through the city of Cannes, where we saw fancy tents being erected in preparation for the famous annual film festival. As we drove along the beach in Cannes, our trip director pointed out that all beaches in France are “top optional” for women. We also saw the town’s Hotel de Ville, which prompted the rest of the travelers on the bus to tease me: Earlier in the trip, I had noticed that every town seems to have a Hôtel de Ville, and I had assumed it was either a hotel chain or just a very commonly used name for a hotel. (Sort of like how every beach town in New Jersey has a motel called “The Dunes.”) Well, it turns out that “Hôtel de Ville” is the French name for the city hall.

Upon arriving in Nice, we noticed once again that motor scooters were everywhere. That had been the case in all the previous towns and villages we visited as well. It’s not unusual to see eight or 10 of them parked in a row outside a cafe, and there even are a few areas in Nice that you might call “scooter parks,” where dozens of scooters (and a few motorcycles) are all crammed in. Businessmen and businesswomen, moms with kids riding on the passenger seat, even a guy driving his scooter while smoking a cigarette -- we saw it all. As far as I can tell, helmets are mandatory in France, because we never saw anyone on a scooter without one.

Our first excursion from our base of operations in Nice was St-Paul-de-Vence, where we visited the Fondation Maeght, a museum of very modern art. We saw paintings and sculptures by Joan Miró, paintings by Henri Matisse, Georges Braque, and Marc Chagall, and an entire courtyard devoted to bronze sculptures by Alberto Giacometti. Of all those artists, I had heard of only Matisse and Chagall, but several of the Penn State travelers were art buffs and were pretty excited to see works by Miró, Giacometti, the cubists, and others. In the sculpture garden outside we looked at some colorful, larger-than-life sculptures ranging from a giant hot-dog-like thing to a guy who looked like Reddy Kilowatt to a figure that one of the Penn Staters pointed out was an E.T. look-alike.

For a dramatic contrast, we went from the museum of ultra-modern art to the center of the village of St-Paul, which is another of those “perched villages,” built on a hilltop for protection in the Middle Ages. Much as we did in Les-Baux-de-St-Rémy a few days earlier, we strolled around on the narrow cobblestone streets (really more like alleys), poked around in the boutiques, cafes, and postcard shops, and took turns taking each other’s picture with the rocky hillside as our backdrop. Some of us also walked over to the cemetery that contains the grave of Marc Chagall, who was associated with St-Paul-de-Vence for 19 years of his life. Others went down to the village square to watch the men play some very serious games of boules or pétanque, which is similar to bocce.

By the way, St-Paul-de-Vence is where we saw our first and only Pepsi products on the trip. It seems that Coca-Cola has a lock on southern France -- it’s everywhere. There’s Coke, Coke Light (the European equivalent of Diet Coke), Coke Light with Lemon, and a product you don’t see in the U.S.: Coke Light Sango, which has blood-orange flavoring. In St-Paul, however, we found a café that served only Pepsi products, and I had a “Pepsi Max” -- which contained no sucre (sugar) but presumably large amounts of caffeine.

After lunch at a restaurant in the Loup (pronounced “loo”) Valley, we headed up the mountain to Grasse, a town that’s famous for its perfume-making. I’ll write about that in my next post.

Photos

Penn State traveler Bob Nicely checks out the Chagall painting “La Vie” at the Fondation Maeght, a museum of modern art outside the village of St-Paul-de-Vence, France.

The sculpture “Walking Man” is one of a number of bronze figures sculpted by Giacometti that are on display at the Maeght museum.

St-Paul-de-Vence is one of a number of picturesque “perched villages” in southern France. Dating at least to the Middle Ages, they were situated on hilltops for protection against attacks.

Men play pétanque, or boules, in the village square in St-Paul-de-Vence, France. The game is similar to bocce.